


This Is The End (If You Want It)

by engineering_biochem



Category: Original Work, Relient K (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Song Inspired, Song fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engineering_biochem/pseuds/engineering_biochem
Summary: "I can't keep a straight face and say 'this is not the end', not if you want it, it's upon us and I wanna say it's sinking in..."They had it all.He had it all.Then in a flash, it was gone.She was gone.[Original story based off the Relient K album "Forget and Not Slow Down."]





	1. This Is My Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the song “Therapy.”

"How?"  
"How did this happen?"  
"Why?"  
"Why me?"

Those are the most common questions people ask themselves after some sort of tragedy. At least, that's my experience. But the thing is, those questions rarely get answered as soon as we would like, if ever. Usually they just bring an immense amount of confusion. 

That was most likely why when I woke up at 6:00 in the morning, I decided to get into my car and just drive. No destination, just aimless driving.  
I guess I thought it could clear my head, or maybe I just needed to run from everything.  
  Whatever the reason, here I am, hair unbrushed and wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday, which I never actually changed out of, even when I had tried to sleep. I say tried because the sleep usually doesn't actually happen, not until about one or two o'clock in the morning, and sometimes not even then.  
      
      What's the point of this? I don't even know. I don't know what the point of anything is anymore. And I stopped asking my family and friends, because all they say to do is pray.  
Sure, like that's going to magically solve my problems. But that's not what I'm worried about at the moment. 

    I tap my fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music blasting through my car speakers. It's already at a volume that most people would consider "too loud," but to me it just seems like empty noise. I reach over to the volume knob and turn it up even louder, hoping that it can drown out my thoughts. I'm really not sure what I'm expecting, all it does is make the windows start to shake. Thank goodness this is a country road, otherwise I would probably get dirty looks from people in passing cars. Not that I care, at least not right now. Now, that might seem insensitive or apathetic, but trust me, if anything, I am not callous in the slightest. Confused, or bitter, maybe, but not apathetic, at least not yet.  
    
     Suddenly I realize I'm starting to veer off of the road, so I yank the steering wheel to the side, righting the car. My already-pale hands are clenched so tightly onto the wheel that my knuckles are white.  
  "What in the heck is wrong with me?" I mutter to myself, shaking my head.  
This shouldn't be affecting me this badly, but even so, here I am. 

   /Alex was right. You're just an overly-sensitive idiot./  
   I blink a few times, a few tears falling down my cheeks as I do so, and I quickly wipe them away with my jacket sleeve. Sighing, I run a hand through my unruly hair.  
   
   /Breathe, Marcus. Just breathe. You can do this, just make it through today./  
I can almost hear my mom's soft voice in my head, comforting me. I focus on that and obey, taking in deep breaths. My mind begins to clear, but only slightly. I look out the front window, out at the sun which is now shining brightly.  
    
     I wonder if people are concerned about me. I haven't checked my phone for two days, actually, I turned it off after I got sick of so many people calling me. My best friend periodically kept trying to call me every hour, but I would just ignore the ringing until it stopped. Honestly, he's one of the last people I want to talk to right now. He doesn't understand that I don't want to talk about what's going on yet. Actually, I might never want to. There's nothing to talk about, really.  
Okay, that's a lie, there's lots I could talk about, but there isn't any point, it's not going to make anything better. 

   Semi-spontaneously, I take a turn down a gravel road, towards this hiking path I remember walking on once. Of course, I hadn't been alone then, I had her with me.  
     
     I sigh heavily as I get out of my car. The light breeze blows through my dark brown curls, and I squint at the bright sky, watching a bird make its way across the sky to the top of a tree.  
    I bet it would be nice to be a bird. They don't seem to worry about anything, and if they need to escape all they have to do is just fly away.  
  I guess the human equivalent of that is what I'm doing right now, but still, it's not as easy as just talking off into the sky would be. 

    Sighing again, I brush a lock of hair out of my face and start down the path, but not before grabbing my phone. I don't even know why I'm taking it with me, it's just another spur-of-the-moment decision.  
  I head through the trees, following the path. The scenery is familiar to me, but not like it would be in a clear memory. It seems more like a memory from a dream, although I know it isn't. Or is it? What if this is all some strange dream and tomorrow I'm going to wake up to find that my life is still somewhat intact?  
   
     /Ha. You wish. Stop fantasizing, life isn't that easy./  
  Well, not fantasizing is pretty much impossible for me, my mind doesn't work that way. You see, I'm a writer, so I'm wired to come up with different ideas and concepts almost 24/7. Which is actually a curse, especially when it's 2:00 in the morning and I can't get my mind to shut off and stop wandering.  
Those are two things you should know about me, I have an overactive mind and overactive imagination. 

    I'm jolted out of my thoughts by a low growl not too far away from me, and with widening eyes I look over to see a wild dog, the source of the growl, crouched low with its teeth bared.  
   
   /Crap./  
See, this is why it's not a good idea to go hiking in the woods alone. But hey, at least it's not a bear, right?  
   
    /Ha. What's wrong with you? You should not be finding any positives about this situation. It's a dog. An angry, wild dog. This is not a joke, you idiot./  
    Some people would think that this would be a good time to run, but the dog is in between me and my car, and if I ran, I'm pretty sure I would definitely get bitten, because— fun fact— I am one of the most unathletic guys on this planet. Seriously. I was not blessed with any physical talents. You know what happened when I tried to play basketball with some other guys when I was a teenager? I broke my arm. One time during recess when I was a kid, I tried racing some kids. I came in last. Dead last. And you know who one of the people who beat me was? It was a girl. Sorry, I'm not trying to sound sexist but— you get the idea. I'm not fast or strong in the slightest.  
  So, I decide that the best course of action is to just stand there and hold my breath, hoping that it'll just go away. I don't even try to back up slowly or grab something to defend myself if necessary, I just stand there.  
   
Wow, I'm /so/ smart. A complete genius, right here.  
Thankfully, it doesn't advance on me, and eventually moves on.  
    
   /Good job, Marc. At least your stupidity didn't mess things up any more than it already has./  
    I let go of the breath I am still holding, and in true idiot fashion, I continue down the path. You would think that I would realize it's a terrible idea to be out here alone and go back to my car, but no, I keep going, fully aware of how stupid this is.  
    
    I walk at a steady pace, not stopping, except to watch the wildlife occasionally. A couple of times, I jump when there's a rustling in the bushes, still jumpy from the encounter with my canine "friend."  
  You know, I kind of want a cat now. Ugh, that was painful to say. But after almost getting bitten by a dog, the option with smaller teeth seems more appealing now. I know, I know, most dogs aren't going to go wild and bite your leg off, but still, all cats do is sleep, so they wouldn't be that hard to take care of. Right? I don't know. Maybe this is why I've never had a pet.  
Aaaaanyways...

I continue until I reach the end of the path, which leads off onto a sort of cliff. I sigh once again and sit down on a rock, and I take out my small notepad and pencil, which I bring with me pretty much everywhere I go. 

    I suddenly realize what one of the things I was hoping for is. I was hoping that by coming up here I can spark my uncooperative imagination into coming up with some sort of new idea. See, the problem isn't that my mind won't come up with anything, but that I'm coming up with too many things. I have way too many things swirling in my mind right now, and I need to focus on just one thing if I want to still have a job. I hoped that I could clear my mind by being out here, alone, in nature, but now I'm not so sure that's going to work. 

I wait for a few moments. 

Nothing. 

I close my eyes and focus on the sound of the wind, the chirping of the birds, whatever that mewling sound is...

Still nothing. 

Frustrated, I almost throw my notepad off the cliff. But I still have enough reason left to know I will regret that later, so I settle for letting it fall to the ground.  
"What am I even doing?" I ask myself angrily. I don't expect to have a response for that anytime soon. That seems to be common theme in my life recently, unanswered questions. 

   I pause for a moment, then take out my phone. And for the first time in a while, I actually turn it on. It was just a sudden impulse, I guess. It's not like there's much else to do out here, anyhow.  
When it loads, I see I have tons of text messages. Some from my best friend, Luke, some from my dad, some from other friends and family, and some from people I didn't even know still had my number. 

   /"Hey, where have you been? I haven't heard from you in a while, just wanted to check up on you."/  
   
/"How are you holding up? I heard about what happened. If you need to talk to someone, I'm here, okay?"/

/"Marcus? Where are you???? Please answer my calls."/

/"I'm seriously worried. No one's talked to you in forever. Please tell me you're okay."/

  I don't know wether to smile or roll my eyes. It's always good to know people actually do care about you, but sometimes they care a little too much. They should stop worrying, I'm fine. Okay, actually, that depends on your definition of fine. If you mean, "alive and in good health," then yeah, I'm more than fine, I'm perfect. But if you mean, "happy and unbroken," then no, I'm far from fine.  
I tried to use the Merriam-Webster dictionary app to find the exact definition of "fine," but that turned out to be no use. There's way too many definitions for such a short word. 

I scroll through more texts, and one from a guy I haven't talked to in forever catches my eye, so I read what he said. 

/"Hey, I heard about you and your girlfriend. That sucks, but remember, it'll be ok, you'll get over her."/

At that, I started to get angry.  
  Get over— get /over/ her??? Really, just "get over" her. Just like that.  
Ha. Trust me, I would if I could. It's not that simple.  
   
    /Idiot./  
  I roll my eyes and continue on through the texts, eager for a distraction to help me keep this flood of tears I feel coming away.  
    
     Next, I see a text from my publisher. My heart rate quickens, she only texts me when there's something really important, which can be either good or bad.  
   
  /"Hi, Marcus. I just wanted to show you this news article I found and thought you might want to see it. It might be a good idea to dispel some of these rumors, for the sake of your reputation. Thank you. (Also, I know you're still recovering, but I need to have a meeting with you soon. Please reply promptly.)"/

"Well I already failed at that," I mutter to myself and click on the link. I'm not really sure what to expect as I don't really read news articles about myself, but as soon as I see the headline my stomach drops. 

  /"WRITER IS DUMPED BY HIS LONGTIME GIRLFRIEND. DID HE CHEAT?"/

I almost throw my phone. But again, I know that is a bad idea, this isn't some sort of overly-dramatic teen novel. I spent too much money on this thing to just recklessly toss it off a cliff to its demise. 

   Who in the blazes do they think they are??? You know what I think? I think you should mind your own business, you stupid moron.  
Yes, I am well aware using "stupid" and "moron" in the same sentence is redundant, but guess what? I don't care. 

  My fist clenches, and I still feel anger welling up inside me, but nonetheless, I continue reading.  
   
  /"Bestselling author Marcus Tanner's girlfriend, Sahara Williams, broke up with him recently, which has many people wondering, why? The pair had been a couple for almost three years, until recently..."/  
    
My eyes begin to fill with tears, the anger being replaced with complete sadness, but I still keep reading. 

  /"...Until recently, when Sahara decided to dump him. Which begs the question, did he cheat on her? The author is known for being very private and not leaving his own home often, so could there have been something else going on behind those locked doors? Something—."/  
     
That's it. I can't keep going. Not now. 

     I exit out of the article and tilt my head back, letting my hair fall out of my eyes and the sun shine onto my face. Tears slide down my face, and I don't try to hold them back anymore. What's the point, even?  
  "Why is this happening?" I whisper once more, but this time it actually is directed at someone, at least almost. 

  I feel a sudden urge and pick my phone back up, but I don't continue looking at text messages. I go to my contacts and click on that all-to-familiar name which still has a heart next to it. I don't know why I haven't removed that, or even deleted the number altogether. I guess this is just another sign I'm bad at letting go.  
The next thing I know, I'm holding my phone to my ear, half hoping for an answer, but also half dreading one. It rings, and it rings, and rings some more. 

Nothing. 

Just as well, my voice is suddenly hoarse and my dry lips feel like they've been glued together.  
But I'm taken aback when the beep for the voicemail sounds, how could I forget about that?

"Uh...hi. It...it's Marcus," I begin, trying to keep my voice from being shaky. "I just wanted to say...I...I miss you. I th...I think I'll always miss you. Please let me talk to you, at least one more time." I pause, not knowing what else to say, then I realize exactly what I wanted to say. "And I...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The last part comes out in a whisper, and I have to keep myself from sobbing. I end the voicemail and pause again. 

    /Delete message?/  
The question pops up onto the screen, and I stare at it for a few moments, contemplating. I needed her to know all that but...was now the time?  
   With a shaky hand, I press delete. 

Not now. Soon, but not now.  
   I shove the phone back into my pocket and let loose the sobs I had been holding back. I draw my legs up close to me and hug them, probably resembling a small child, but I don't care.  
   "Please just let all of this be over," I whisper and look up at the sky with my tear-streaked face. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I know I need help, but I still want to do this by myself. I know this will be over eventually, or at least that's what people say. But what if it isn't? What if I feel like this forever? No matter how hard I try, I can't convince myself that this is going to turn out fine. God, I don't want to feel this way. Help. Please."

  I end my hopeless half-prayer with another sigh and wipe my face with my sleeve. For a bit, I just sit there in silence, finally willing myself to just focus on the scenery around me. 

   It's refreshing, honestly, just being out here with nothing but nature around me. I just hope I don't encounter any more wild dogs on the way back.  
   I run a hand through my hair, and my mind suddenly comes back to reality.  
/Stop running, Marcus. You can't keep avoiding things. Stop./ 

  I look down at the ground, then eventually nod reluctantly. I have to go back to my normal life eventually. I don't want to, but there's no avoiding it.  
   I stand up finally, and after one last look at my surroundings, I head back down the path.  
  When I reach my car, I hesitate. Do I really want to go back yet? What if I just stayed out here a little longer, maybe—

   /No. Quit stalling. It's time./  
I sigh again and get into my car, and for a moment, I feel something stir inside of me. It's like a small flicker, a flicker of hope.  
   It's not much, but it's enough for now. Maybe I /can/ do this. 

   /Alright, Marcus. Therapy time's over. Time to get back to work./  
But as I drive off back down the road, I know that things are still far from being normal.


	2. Don’t Ever Turn Me Loose...Even When I Turn My Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the song “Sahara.”

Getting back to work is easier said than done. Days pass, and sometimes it feels like I'm taking a step back rather than forward. But things are going fairly alright, that is, until my best friend decides to visit. 

    My face is buried in a pillow and a heap of blankets is on top of me when I hear the knock on my door. I groan into the pillow, not wanting to get up, but when they don't go away, I realize that I have to. I try to roll out of my bed, but my feet get caught up in the blankets and I end up face-planting on the floor.  
  "Ow," I mutter and wince. This was not how I wanted to start my morning. Wait, afternoon, actually. Yeah. I slept in until 12:00. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, ok? Wait, scratch that, I never get a lot of sleep, at least not recently. 

My visitor begins knocking even harder, and I roll my eyes.  
   "I'M COMING!" I shout, hoping they can hear me. "And learn patience," I add to myself grumpily.  
I untangle myself from the blankets and wipe some drool off of my face, and I stumble over towards the door. I open it to see a very familiar face, but not one I'm particularly happy to see.

  "Luke?" I say, my voice coming out more tired and grumpy than I had intended. "What are you doing here?"  
   "Wow, don't be so excited to see me," my friend replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes. I sigh and step back to let him in. "You look like a mess."  
   "Thanks," I reply, matching his sarcasm. I can't deny it though, he's probably right. My hair is all over the place and I need to shave, and in addition to that, I've been wearing these same clothes for three days straight.  
You know, when I was a kid, I always told myself that I would never get this broken up over a girl, but here I am, proving my younger self wrong. Wonderful. 

   "Hey look...uh, I should have let you know I was coming, but you weren't answering your phone and, frankly? I was worried about you," Luke says as he walks in.  
  "Well, as you can see, I'm alive, so I guess you can go now." I plop down onto my couch and he shakes his head.  
"Sure, you're alive, but you're obviously not alright. I know you, you don't like to let your house get this messy. Sure, you usually live in chaos, but it's organized chaos. This is about the furthest from organized you can get."  
  This is the downside of having a friend who understands you so well. They can tell when something is wrong, no matter how hard you try to hide it from them. Of course, I'm not really trying to hide it that much. I've kind of given up on that, it's not worth the effort. 

   "So did you come here to critique my living space or to talk? Because honestly, neither is very welcome right now," I say flatly as I slouch down in my seat.  
"I don't know...I guess I just wanted to check on you. Look, I know you want to try to do everything yourself and all that, but you don't have to. That's why you have me! And lots of other people. There's still a world out there beyond all of this, one that you're just shutting out. You—."  
    "Well a lot of that world doesn't really care much about me, do they?" I cut him off harshly. Luke pauses, and I slouch further. "You look at the news, don't you?" I ask, my voice quieter this time. He looks down, and I can tell he knows what I'm talking about. Good. At least I'm not the only one who had to read that crap. 

    "I hoped you wouldn't have to see that," he says quietly, but all I do is laugh bitterly.  
"What, so you think I'm like some kid that needs to be sheltered from what the world thinks of him?" I ask, lifting my gaze up to the ceiling. "Do you—."  
   "No! That's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant," Luke shoots back and throws up his hands. "I just know that right now, you're destroying yourself, and the last thing you need is to read some sort of stupid article that says you're just like any other jerk guy. I don't know if you even remember this anymore, but I care about you. You're my freaking best friend, and honestly, I hate seeing you like this because I know you aren't going to let me help you. So—."  
   "So why are you even here?" I ask and look at him again pointedly. "If you know I don't want to talk then why would you even come?"  
"Because I want to help. Even if you don't want me to, I want to be here for you. And...even though I know you don't want to talk about it, maybe you should because—."  
    "No!" I cut him off again. "Why can't you understand that? I don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It. Ok? There's nothing to even talk about. So either drop it or leave." My tone is flat and my expression bitter. Luke must get the idea, because he looks down and stares at the floor for a good few moments, silent. I pull my legs up onto the couch and hug them as I lean against the arm of the couch, probably resembling a child again. To an observer, this silence probably would seem awkward, but to me it's normal. I'm not usually one to start conversations, so I've grown accustomed to silence when someone is trying to talk to me. 

   "Um...so...how has your book been going?" he asks finally. I feel myself perk up slightly. I had almost forgotten how well he knows me.  
   Little secret about me, if you want to get my mind off of something, it's a good idea to get me talk about, well, my ideas. No matter how frustrated I might seem about something I'm working on, deep down I always want to talk about it. Unless it's an undeveloped idea, if you try to pry too hard about one of those I'll most likely retreat further into my proverbial shell. 

  "I'm kinda stuck," I say and shrug. "And I think I'm going to rewrite the beginning. Or maybe the whole thing, I've been considering switching it to first-person perspective. Don't know. I'm starting to wonder if I should change the main character a bit, I think he's a little bit too much like me."  
  "What, quiet and sarcastic?" Luke asks, a small smirk on his face.  
"Basically," I reply and chuckle softly.  
   "So... how've you been doing lately?" I say, realizing that I don't really know what's been happening in his life recently. 

   "Well, I've been pretty busy," he begins, and I rest my head on my knees, my expression somewhat attentive for once. "I've had a lot to do at work because there's this project we're working on, an important one. That's going pretty well."  
See, Luke is an engineer, AKA a thousand times smarter than I am. Me? I almost failed math in high school. Algebra and I are mortal enemies. That's what I love about writing, all you have to do is be good with putting words together. No need for trigonometric functions or the quadratic formula or blah blah blah, I don't even remember half of the stuff I learned. Except for those two terms, somehow. 

  "Oh, and, me and my family all went on a vacation to Disney World, that was awesome. I tried to invite you to come with us, but you were insistent on ignoring the whole outside world," he continues, trying to have a joking tone in his voice as he says the last sentence, but the joke kind of falls flat. Nonetheless, I laugh quietly in spite of myself. But still, it's not like it used to be when we talked, joking around and poking fun at each other every other sentence. That's my fault, I guess. 

   "How's Christine?" I ask suddenly, and I think he's slightly taken aback. I could tell he was avoiding mentioning his girlfriend for fear of "upsetting" me, so I force the subject upon him to show that I'm completely comfortable talking about other people's actually successful love lives. Even though I soon discover I'm actually not. Wow, I'm starting to realize how confusing of a person I am. 

"She..she's fine. Both of us have been busy, the company put her on a different project, so we haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together recently." He shifts in his seat, and I know he's trying to see if I'm bothered by the subject.  
  If you couldn't tell already, Christine is Luke's girlfriend and fellow engineer/nerd. As you might imagine, dinner with them is a nightmare. I almost fell asleep at the table once, my brain can't handle so much confusing nerd talk. 

   "Plus we've had a lot of other things to do, with this church event that she somehow managed to have both of us be in charge of, and the wedding planning—." He breaks off and I raise my head off of my knees.  
  Did he just say— ?

"Oh...uh..sorry, I didn't tell you me and her are— y'know— because...yeah," he looks down and I can tell by his flushed cheeks he wished he hadn't brought that up.  
I know exactly why he didn't tell me. Well, even if he had tried, I still wouldn't have known since I haven't exactly been keeping in touch with anyone, but that's beside the point. 

   "It...it's fine. C...congratulations," I mumble, then bite down hard on my lip. It hurts, but I really don't care, that pain makes me focus on something else so I don't start crying. I peel off a dry piece of skin with my teeth, and I'm pretty sure I can taste blood now, but again, I don't care. I really am happy for them, at least somewhat. I'm glad he's happy, and if I'm being honest, to me that matters more than my happiness. But a part of me hates hearing about their oh-so-perfect relationship, something I've never had. Maybe I never will. 

   I take a breath, determined to not let my friend see me cry.  
   "So...when's the wedding?" I ask, forcing myself to smile. It probably looks extremely fake, and a concerned look flashes across Luke's face before he answers my question.  
  "It won't be for a few months, we're thinking an early fall wedding will be good," he says, then looks down.  
/Great. He's back to feeling sorry for you, I know he is./

"Yeah. That...that sounds awesome," I say with forced enthusiasm, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.  
     "Hey..." he began and started to stand, but I held up and hand and stopped him.  
"No. I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it. Okay? I thought I told you already. I. Am. Fine. I don't—."  
  "No you aren't! You are not fine. I can just tell by your face. And there's nothing wrong with that, I understand, you—."  
  "You don't! You don't understand!" I exclaim and stand up so we're at roughly the same level. I say roughly because he's about five inches taller than my five foot eight self.  
"You come here, and say you want to 'talk.' You want to talk? Let's talk. Let's talk about how Marcus Tanner is the biggest idiot in the world. Let's talk about how his own best friend can't tell when he clearly doesn't want to say anything about it?" My voice began to rise, and I step forward. "Let's talk," I spat the word out with disgust, "about how I can barely drag myself out of bed every morning while you, you're off getting engaged to some girl that still /loves/ you." My tone is bitter, and Luke's expression changes from concerned to mad. 

   "You know what? Fine. Fine! You want to dig yourself into a nice little hole, then fine, go ahead. But I'm not going to let you drag me down with you," he says harshly, holding my gaze for a few moments before turning around to head back towards the door. "I wanted to help you. I care about you, but if you...if you just want to push me away..." when his hand is on the doorknob, he pauses for a moment. It looks as if he's reconsidering, wanting to try to help me again, but my mind is already made up.  
   "Alright then, go! I don't even need your help anyways. I don't need help! So just go and stop wasting both of our times."

His gaze hardens once more and he exits, slamming the door behind him.  
I simply stand there for a few moments, staring after him, my mouth slightly open as conflicting emotions rage inside of me.  
   What the heck just happened???

/No, that was good. You never wanted him here anyways. You don't need someone watching over you like you're some helpless baby./  
   
  I nod, letting my pride win for a bit, but then it hits me. Luke is my best friend, but I might have just lost him too. Because of my own fricking stubbornness.  
  But that very same stubbornness is exactly why I refuse to acknowledge exactly why all of this is happening.  
   I throw myself back down onto the couch, and put my head in my hands, defeated as my pride seeps away, leaving only brokenness.  
It happened. Things got worse. I didn't think it was possible, but here I am. And now? Even my best friend has left me. 

   One of the pillows on my couch falls over onto me, and I grab it and throw it across the room, where it crashes into a lamp. The lamp falls to the ground with a loud crash, the bulb shattering.  
   Everything just seems to break loose at once. Tears stream down my cheeks as my body shakes with sobs, and my mind somehow has a million thoughts racing through it but at the same time I can't comprehend anything.

Time passes. Minutes? Hours? I don't even know. Each time I think I have the energy to lift my head, another tidal wave of emotion washes over me and I'm reduced to a broken-hearted nothing once again.  
  Well, I have enough of a weak grasp on reality to know it hasn't actually been hours, even though it feels that way. I grip another pillow, but this time I just hold it close to me, holding it so tightly it'll probably never go back to exactly its original shape.  
"What am I doing?" I ask myself again. "What did I do?"  
  /That's a stupid question. You know exactly what you did./

  I do. But I, like many others belonging to the human race, have a difficult time admitting when I've done something wrong. Right now is certainly no exception.  
   "Why? WHY?"  
My voice rises to a yell and I slam the pillow to the side, then break down into sobs again. There's too many emotions for me to process. I can't. I don't know how. 

I hear something else fall. It's more of a dull clang this time, mixed with a crack.  
I finally will myself to move, and I see that the fallen item is a picture frame. I pick it up slowly, and the image it holds just makes me want to cry even more.  
   It's of me and my mom, from my 24th birthday. She's giving me a hug as I hold up the writing notebook she got me, and both of us have huge smiles on our faces.  
I wish I could go back to that. It's been years since I've felt her reassuring embrace, and I miss it.  
Just like I miss Sahara. And I already miss Luke. 

   "I miss you, Mom," I whisper brokenly. "I need you. Everyone's gone. And it...it...it's all my fault." I can barely finish the sentence without sobbing. I need someone. By someone, I mean my mom, but that's impossible. She had always been the best at helping me, at knowing exactly what I needed.  
   She's what got me through difficult times, then when she died at least I had Sahara. That's actually what really brought us together, but now? I have no one. Not even Luke. No one. 

  Why don't I mention my dad, you ask? We aren't exactly on the best terms, I'll leave it at that. He's never been a help before, so why should now be any different?  
   I hug the picture close to me, ignoring the glass shards that threaten to cut into my chest. Tears flow down my face, dampening my sweatshirt sleeves. 

   I feel like everyone's deserted me. I'm alone.  
A proverbial pit seems to deepen inside of me. I slump down even further, feeling entirely defeated now. Then, out of sheer exhaustion, I drift off to sleep, still clutching the broken picture. 

******

I wake suddenly as I feel a sharp, cutting pain in my arm. I look down with fuzzy vision to see blood coming from a cut in my forearm, and I realize I must have fallen onto the picture when I was asleep. 

  "Ugh," I mutter, wincing in pain as I pull myself up into a standing position. I stumble to the bathroom and prop myself up against the sink. Moving slower than I would like, I wash the cut, then grope through the cabinet underneath my sink for a bandage or something. I don't have anything that fancy so I settle for a few large bandaids. 

   When that's finally taken care of, I stay leaned over the sink for a bit. There's a bit of blood in it, and I watch as it falls towards the bottom and then eventually down the drain. Then I catch sight of my own reflection in the mirror and look up, but I can barely recognize the face staring back at me. 

  There are dark bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, and my face looks even paler than usual. In addition to the bags, the area around my eyes is red and puffy from crying. My hair is a tangled mess of limp curls, which could obviously use a wash, and I notice some dried blood on my bottom lip. As mentioned before, there's a bit of itchy stubble on my face from not having shaved recently enough. And on top of that, my already slender figure seems to be slightly thinner, but that might just be my imagination. 

  I stare at my reflection, stunned by how different, and well...broken, I look.  
"What am I doing?"  
     I'm nowhere near knowing the answer to that question. My lip quivers, and I feel like I'm going to cry again, but no tears come. It's like I don't have any left, and I can't decide if this empty loneliness is worse than than the grief or not. 

   I exit the bathroom, my gaze fixed on the floor, so I don't see the doorframe before smacking into it.  
  "Ow," I mutter and rub my forehead, which took the brunt of the impact. "Can't seem to do anything right today." I sigh and stumble into my bedroom before flopping down on my bed. I stare up at the ceiling blankly for a while, my subconscious still trying to process this feeling of loneliness. 

   "Help. I...I need help," I whisper, my voice shaking. "From someone, anyone. I...I can't do this." I close my eyes tightly and run my hands through my hair as the vague plea leaves my mouth. "I don't have anyone left. I always told myself that I could do everything on my own but...I know that isn't true," I continue, still not sure who exactly I'm directing this cry for help towards.  
   Heck, who am I kidding? I know exactly who I'm trying to direct it towards, if He's even listening. I don't know anymore. 

    With a shake of my head, I sigh and rest one of my arms over my face. I wish I could just sleep well finally, but I know that's not going to happen, so I just continue to lie there, silence being my only company. 

     
/"A lion on his side  
Was it the lying or his pride which brought him down?  
Once the king of beasts but now they feast on the thoughts beneath his vacant crown  
Trying to decide was it the lying or the pride which brought it down?  
To be alone, to be dethroned, believe me I know all about it now.  
So I'll ask one thing, just one thing, of you. Don't ever turn me loose, even when I turn my back!"/


	3. Until Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the song “Savannah.”

A few days have passed, and I’m getting even less sleep. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t fallen asleep at the wheel yet as I drive.   
I actually do have a destination in mind as a drive, I’m not /that/ stupid. I’m not just gonna drive around completely randomly and waste gas, I’m an author. I don’t have the money for that.   
It’s about five in the morning, so the sun hasn’t risen quite yet. Again, a dumb choice on my part. I mean, /sure/, drive all the way through the night when you’re already dead tired. Sounds like a /genius/ plan.   
I blink a few times, realizing I actually am almost nodding off. I should really pull over or something so I don’t end up crashing, but I’m on a roll with the dumb decisions, so why not continue?   
Almost mechanically, I feel my hand reach over and turn on the radio. My mouth turns down in a frown at the song playing, unsatisfied by it. So I turn to another station, but it’s still not a song I really want to her. I try another, and another, and another. Still, nothing. Nothing is satisfying. I let out a long sigh, just turning the radio off and leaving myself in silence again.   
Suddenly, I have to slam on my breaks as some animal runs into the road. The car stops just in time, and I reflexively reach over to the seat next to me as I’m jolted forward. I try to grab for a hand that isn’t there, so of course, I’m met with nothing. I bring my hand back to the steering wheel slowly and shakily as my face pales. I feel tears beginning to form, but I don’t bother to wipe them away.   
The animal has reached the other side of the road by now, so I continue on my way. A small sigh escapes my lips, and the tears finally fall, sliding down my face slowly.   
Right about now would be the perfect time for a sunrise, like one of those cliché “light shining through the darkness” type things. But a much more accurate metaphor presents itself as such a sunrise is hidden by the thick, dark clouds overhead. Even though I’m safely inside my warm car, the gloom they give off sends shivers down my spine. An empty feeling settles into the pit of my stomach, but I try to just shake it off. I’m on vacation, this is supposed to be a break from all that stuff. That’s kinda funny, actually, now that I think about it. I chose to take my vacation in the one place that’s sure to bring up painful memories.   
See, me and my girlfriend— ex-girlfriend. Always forget that part— for the past few years would always take a vacation to Savannah, Georgia. We’d go sightseeing, visit a beach...so now I’m doing the same thing. Except, I’m alone.   
I never realized how much quieter it is without her. Right about now she’d be laughing at me for making some comment about how terrible the other drivers on the road were, then she’d remind me I’m not always the best driver either. I miss that laugh, so much. I’d give anything just to hear it again, but I know I’m never going to. And it’s all my fault.   
Or will I? My eyes light up ever so slightly as a thought crosses my mind. What if she has the same idea as me? This is the same time of year we’d normally come here, after all. What if she’s already here, maybe even waiting for me? It’s a bit of a stretch, I’ll admit, but I’m in desperate need of some hope. All I want is to just see her again, talk to her, even just be friends again. I want that more than anything. And who knows, maybe there is hope, for something.  
As I arrive, I’m vaguely aware of the clouds parting for a bit, letting the fiery orange of the sunrise shine through for a few brief moments, before it’s dark once more. 

*******

It’s almost noon now, and I’ve already checked into my hotel and gotten settled in. By “settled in” I really mean I just tossed all my luggage into a pile on the floor.   
I’d been in a hurry to get back out the door, even though I’m still exhausted. I want to hang onto this strand of hope for as long as I can, and, right now, that means going out and chasing it. The way I’m going to do that is by going to all the places we’d normally go, all of our favorite spots. That’s exactly the type of thing she’d do, of course she’d be waiting for me in some familiar spot.   
I can picture it already, her sitting somewhere, tapping her foot impatiently, probably ready to make some snarky comment about me taking forever to get there, as always. I’m sure of it, she’s here somewhere. She /has/ to be. She just has to. 

~one year ago~

“Marcus! Come /on/, let’s go!” Sahara called impatiently. I just rolled my eyes, knowing waiting a little bit longer wouldn’t kill her.   
“I’m coming! I’m just finishing something up, it won’t take long,” I called back to her, then focused on my notebook again. I wasn’t trying to delay what we had planned, but an idea had just come to me and I needed to write it down before I forgot.  
After a little bit longer, I don’t know if she got bored or was genuinely interested in what I was doing, but I heard her walk up behind me then felt her rest her head on my shoulder, peering down at what I was writing.   
“/Saraaaa/,” I complained, holding my notebook to my chest in a rather childish manner so she couldn’t see it. “You know I don’t like it when you look at my unfinished stuff. I might not even use some of this stuff, it’s not like it’s that great anyways,” I added, craning my neck so I could see her.   
“Sorry, I just really like your ideas. You /should/ share more of them, they /are/ good, no matter what you might say. And you know I’m not gonna judge them if they aren’t perfect, I love hearing about all of this stuff. But still, you don’t have to show me. Here. I’ll close my eyes, then you can finish,” she said, wrapping her arms around my waist before closing her eyes and resting her head on my shoulder. I smiled and leaned my head against hers for a moment, before resting the notebook on my lap again so I could finish putting down my thought. But about halfway through writing, I suddenly paused, the reason that even letting her see my unfinished ideas made me uncomfortable sinking in.   
“I...I guess I just get really nervous to show /anyone/ this stuff, since I guess I think they’ll think less of me. I’m an author, people should only see my best,” I admitted quietly after a few moments and bit my lip. Sahara didn’t respond at first, just pulling me closer and holding me tightly for a few moments.   
“Can I open my eyes now?” She asked softly, trying to reach for my hand blindly.  
“Yeah,” I whispered, just shoving my notebook to the side this time, not bothering to hide it. She opened her eyes and moved over beside me, then resumed her position of having her arms wrapped around me.   
“Hey. Marc. Look at me, okay?” She said, her voice still soft but holding a twinge of firmness in it. Reluctantly I did so, slowly meeting her gaze. She intertwined her fingers with mine, then smiled softly. “Marcus Anthony Tanner. You are the most talented person I know. Really! I don’t think you even know how much talent you have. But you know what else? You’re also your own biggest critic. Who cares if an idea is absolutely perfect or not? They’re still good, when they come from you. People aren’t going to think less of you. You are /such/ an amazing writer, I couldn’t even get close to being as good as you. So don’t worry about ‘not being good enough’ or something like that, because you’re /so/ amazing in /so/ many different ways,” she finished, then leaned forward and softly kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes for a few moments, then let out a sigh and nodded.  
“Okay. Thanks, Sahara. I love you,” I whispered and smiled a little bit.   
“I love you too. Do you wanna get going now?” She asked quietly, smiling more now that she could tell I felt better.   
“Yeah...yeah. I am. Just one thing first though—.” I cut myself off and leaned forward while simultaneously wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into a kiss. It only lasted for a little while, but there was quite a bit of passion behind the kiss on both sides.   
When I did pull back, both of us had smiles on our faces again, and were still holding each other close.   
“Mmh— that was nice. Unexpected, but nice,” she commented with a light laugh, which just caused me to smile wider.  
“I couldn’t help it, I love you too much,” I said and kissed her cheek, grinning a little bit when I pulled back again.   
“Come on, you cheeseball. We’ve got a whole day’s worth of events to get to,” she said and laughed again, before standing up, the happiest smile on her face in that moment.   
“I’m coming. Wouldn’t want you to start getting cranky again,” I replied and grinned more, standing up as well.   
“Oh, shut up. It’s not /my/ fault it take you forever to get out the door,” she said and stuck her tongue out at me. I just laughed and started to head out of the room, but not before intertwining my fingers with hers again. She smiled softly again and looked up at me, and for a moment we just gazed at each other, the deep, naïve love we felt showing clearly in our eyes.   
And so we walked out the door, hand in hand, both of us the absolute happiest we could be in that moment. 

*******

After a long day of exploring downtown, popping in and out of various gift shops— sometimes with various spoils from our adventures within them and sometimes not—, food, ice cream and a walk on the beach— complete with Sahara inevitably pushing me into the water—, we’d finally settled down back in the house we were staying in for the week we were going to be here. We were both lying on the hammock that was strung up in the backyard, my arms wrapped around Sahara as she rested her head on my chest.   
I stared out at the setting sun as the evening breeze swept across the yard, and I felt completely at peace for the moment. My girlfriend’s eyes were closed, but I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not. I absentmindedly brushed my fingers through her fiery red hair, something I’d often do to help her relax.   
Suddenly she stirred, letting out a yawn before looking up at me.   
“Mornin’,” I said jokingly, smiling when her eyes meet mine.   
“DId I fall asleep? Wow, I must be tired. But, I mean, it has been quite a day,” she replied, yawning again and snuggling closer to me.   
“Yeah, it has. It’s been great though,” I replied quietly, lifting my head a bit so I could kiss the top of hers.   
“It’s been /amazing/. I love doing stuff like this with you, it makes me so happy. Are /you/ happy?” She asked softly, her brows furrowing the slightest bit.   
“Of course I’m happy. I don’t have any reason not to be,” I said with a shrug, but I couldn’t hide the twinge of sadness I was really feeling.   
“Marcus Tanner, you are a terrible liar. Please, talk to me. You can talk to me about anything,” she said, her voice starting out with a reprimanding tone then ending with a soft one. I hesitated, not wanting to bring down the mood or anything of that sort, then finally I let out a sigh.   
“It...it’s a few things. I just...I still miss my mom, and my publisher keeps getting on me for not writing enough stuff or good enough stuff and it— it’s all just really, really stressful,” I admitted, glancing down when I’d finished.   
Sahara was silent for a little bit, as she tried to figure out what to say  
“I...I’m sorry. I know you still miss your mom, and I understand that. It’s been years, and I still miss my dad almost as much as I did when he first died. But you’ve got people to help you with that,” she began, her voice quiet. “Me, Luke...you’ve got us and /so/ many other people that are there for you and I’m sure would be more than willing to let you just talk to them, if that’s what you need. And as for that stuff with your publisher? Screw that! You’re doing just fine, it’s not like you can just churn out a constant flow of stuff. Otherwise it /won’t/ be good. You’re doing just fine, babe.”   
I smiled a little bit again, feeling more relaxed again as I just tried to focus on her and not any other thoughts that were running through my mind.   
“Thank you, Sara. I really don’t know what I’d do without you,” I told her quietly, pulling her closer and holding her more tightly. She planted a quick kiss to my cheek, before settling her head back on my chest.   
“Well you’re never going to have to figure that out. No matter what happens, I’m always gonna be with you. I promise,” she said softly, smiling at me lovingly.   
“Me too. I promise,” I replied, the same loving expressing on my face as we gaze each other. She slowly lifted her head, and at the same time I do the same. We both lean closer until our lips meet for another kiss, one filled with the love surging through the both of us, and our minds relaxed by the assurance of our new, fragile promises. 

And we both believed them. Oh, we believed them, promises that could only be made by a couple of lovesick fools who had no idea what their future held. 

~~~~~

I shake myself out of my daydream, trying to focus on the road again. I’ve tried everywhere, but it’s always the same thing. I arrive, look around, and after I’m overwhelmed by all the memories it brings back, I come up short. She’s nowhere to be found. But then again, did I /really/ think she would be? It was just a foolish glimmer of hope. This isn’t a cheesy Hallmark movie, she’s not just going to happen to be here. And even if she is, it’s not like she’s going to just run into my arms as the sun sets, and our love is somehow just magically rekindled. The world doesn’t work like that.  
Not all that was exactly true, though. There’s still one place I haven’t checked, but part of me doesn’t even want to try. Although, what’s the harm? It’s not like I have anything better to do, and I know I won’t be satisfied if I don’t check absolutely everywhere before I give up and go home.   
“Oh, what the heck. Why not?” I mumble to myself as I suddenly change course. I’m heading to the beach now, which is a little over an hour away and used to be our favorite place (the key words there are “used to” and “our”). Now, I just know it’s not going to be the same. These places never are, not now.   
And about an hour later, that’s shown to be true. I’m standing on the rocks just above the beach, looking down at the water. The sun has just begun to set, casting an orange glow over everything before me. It reminds me of last time I was here, with the light breeze sweeping across the shore and rustling my hair. Just one this is missing, but I think that’s painfully obvious by now.   
I take a deep breath before starting down the sand, my strides slow. There aren’t very many people out here with me, aside from one couple having an exceedingly sappy photoshoot. It would be easy to just laugh at them now, but honestly, I miss things like that. I never would’ve thought I’d say this, but I miss Sahara showing up at my house at five in the morning for a “romantic walk in the early morning light,” as she would say. I’ve lost a lot of sleep because of that woman, but it was worth it then. Now? That’s not exactly the case.   
I’m surprised by the feeling of water hitting my feet, I didn’t realize I’d walked so far already. I slip off my sandals and take a few more steps, shuddering at how cold the water is. I’ve never really been one to really get in the water at the beach, that is, unless Sahara pushed me in— something she did quite often.   
No, usually the most I’d do would be to go up to just above my ankles. I prefer not to have large amounts of my body submerged in freezing cold water.   
Squinting, I stare out at the setting sun, magnificent hues of red and orange and yellow, even some purple coming from it now. It’s a strangely peaceful feeling, just standing there as the sun sets in front of me, the wind blows behind me, and not a sound is heard other than my own breathing and the wind. I can feel my feet sinking into the sand a bit, but I don’t stop it. The water laps at my legs and finally, for one moment, I truly feel at peace.   
It’s like everything has else has disappeared, like the proverbial stormcloud that’s been hanging over me has just dissipated. I close my eyes, breathing in the sea air deeply, then letting out a long, relaxed breath. It’s the best feeling I’ve had in awhile, and I almost feel like maybe, just maybe, even if I never see Sahara again, I can be happy, truly happy.   
Suddenly my whole side is splashed with a spray of water, snapping me out of my fantasy. I open my eyes to see the culprit, a dog happily splashing through the water beside me.   
“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” I hear someone exclaim, and turn around to see yet another couple. I’m pretty sure they’re different from the ones I noticed earlier, since I didn’t think they had a dog, but I’m honestly not positive. “Biscuit just gets really excited when there’s water, we’re really sorry he splashed you,” the girl says, her presumed boyfriend grabbing the dog’s leash.   
“Oh, uh...no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” I say, waving them off. I start to walk off quickly, trying to avoid any further interaction since I’m not very good at that.   
But to my dismay, I don’t get off that easily this time.   
“Do I know you from somewhere?” The boyfriend suddenly asks as I walk away. I freeze, wishing I’d walked away faster. That was a question I got a lot, there were quite a few people that at least vaguely recognized me, but normally I could just play it off as having run into them somewhere before or something of that sort. I’m hoping now is one of those times, because I’m really not in the mood for a conversation.   
“Uh...I don’t think so?” I begin and turn around, trying to keep all awkwardness and irritation that I’m feeling out of my voice. “I mean, we might have run into each other before, but I don’t—“   
“Yeah! I know who you are!” His girlfriend cuts me off suddenly, an excited expression on her face. 

/Crap. She knows./

“I— I really don’t think—“ I stammer, knowing that if she really did recognize me, then my plan for a quick escape would go right down the drain. 

/Run! Make an excuse! Say you have something to do, or something. Anything is better than just standing here like a socially awkward idiot!/

Ha. I am a socially awkward idiot, so naturally I don’t end up actually doing anything, instead, I just try not to die inside as I stand there, waiting to see what they say next.   
“You’re that author, right? You look like him at least,” she continues, then looks at her boyfriend as if for a second opinion.

/Ah,“that author.” Right. That’s the title all of your hard work has earned you./

“No, no, you’re right, he totally is. Aren’t you?” He asks and raises his eyebrows at me. 

/Say no! No! It’s not technically lying if they don’t actually know your name./

“Y— yes?” I end up saying after a few painstakingly long moments of awkward silence. “Uh— I’m Marcus, M— Marcus Tanner. It...it’s nice to meet you,” I add, my eyes darting back and forth between them but somehow never meeting their gaze.   
“Oh! This is so cool! We’ve read your books, at least most of them. They’re pretty good,” he says with a smile, but a skeptical look suddenly crosses his girlfriend’s face, which makes me nervous. I was absolutely terrified that one of them was going to mention Sahara, especially since I knew there had been /several/ articles about our split.  
“Th— thanks. I, uh...I really need to go, sorry…” I trailed off, mumbling something about having to get somewhere soon. I quickly turn around, my heart racing out of nervousness. But as soon as I do, I hear the girl mumble something to her boyfriend. I can’t make out exactly what she says, but I know it’s something along the lines of “he cheated on his girlfriend.” I freeze again, feeling my fists clench. I try to tell myself that I shouldn’t be upset, but I can’t help it.   
“That’s /not/ what happened,” I say in a deathly low voice, not turning around. “I screwed up, yeah. But I didn’t cheat on her. I could never do that,” I add quietly, looking down at the ground as tears form in my eyes. I hurry off down the sand, back towards the parking lot before they even have a chance to respond. The further I get, the faster I go, until I’m running about as fast as I can. This proves to be a bad idea, since when my feet hit the more loose sand, I end up twisting my ankle. I hit the sand, my face twisted into a grimace. “Ow, ow,” I mumble as I roll over onto my back, and at that exact moment it hits me that I left my sandals by the water. I try to wipe the sand off of my face and let out a frustrated groan. I’d started out today so hopeful, and now everything was just going wrong so quickly. I bite my lip as I sit up, tears running freely down my face now. My ankle feels like it’s throbbing, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to get back to my car now. I grit my teeth and take a deep breath, before forcing myself to stand up. But as soon as I put weight on my injured ankle, I immediately fall back down and let out a pained cry.   
But suddenly, as I’m lying face down in the sand again, I hear a voice, one that I didn’t think I’d ever hear again.   
“Marcus! Oh my gosh, are you okay?” The voice says, and I can hear footsteps running through the sand towards me. I don’t move yet, almost afraid that I’m just imagining things and if I open my eyes, reality will ruin things once more. I feel myself being gently rolled over, and I cough a few times to expel the sand that had found its way into my mouth. “Marcus?”   
I finally force myself to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred a bit because of the sand resting on my eyelashes, dangerously close to being in my eye. But I can make out a red haired woman looking down at me, although I still can’t make out who she is. Correction, I /know/ who she is, it just seems so unbelievable that my mind just can’t accept it. I reach up and try to wipe the sand off of my face again, in order to clear my vision.   
“Sa— Sara?” I ask warily as I blink away the rest of the sand, everything still coming into focus.   
“Yeah. It’s me,” she replies softly, and after just a few more moments I can see again, and somehow, the face I see looking back at me surprises me beyond belief.   
“H— hey,” is all I manage to get out, but I want to say so much more. I can’t help but smile as I look up at her, just taking in every detail of that face I never thought I’d see again. 

/It’s her, she’s here. Sahara’s here!/

 

“Yet I know you'll be there cause   
you'll know I'll want you to be there  
And we'll say hello, as you're smiling in love  
And we'll sigh so relieved I believe   
because we will both know by tonight   
we'll feel normal again  
But until then…”


End file.
